Animal Crossing: Lame Over
by Dance War
Summary: Crime, Passion, Murder, Bells...the greatest story ever told? It may very well be. Finshed 7/24/03.
1. Chapter One

Animal Crossing: Lame Over  
  
June 19, 2003  
  
2:37 a.m.  
  
It'd been raining steadily for going on three days. Thick brown mud covered the ground like a sheen of fecal dew, and the rivers were filled to their brims with the perfectly blue, pixilated water. A fish darted to the surface, and then quickly retreated into the murky deep, frightened by the sound of running footsteps. A lone figure scurried through the darkness, slipping on the mud and then quickly getting back to it's feet. It raced toward the town square, toward the three squat huts and the large, three-story mansion that towered over them like a strict schoolmaster or a R. Kelly at a daycare center.  
  
Tom reached the door and struggled to lift the gargantuan knocker on it's front. Finally he gave up and began pounding on the thick oak slab of door, struggling to be heard over the poaring rain. A light flickered on in the upstairs bedroom, and over the rushing in his ears Tom heard someone clunking down the stairs. A moment later the door flew open, and Tom threw himself into the warm, dry house.  
  
"Jesus, Tom, it's like three in the morning."  
  
Tom was shivering on the Jingle sofa in the living room, hugging himself and making lazy, half-hearted gestures at the fireplace. Mink stood in the doorway, looking out into the stormy night, but it was useless: the rain was coming down so hard he couldn't see anything past the Gyroid crazily dancing in his front lawn. He closed the door and made his way across the room. Very deliberatly, he took his time lighting the fire. When this has been attended to, and the room was warm and cozily lit, he took a seat opposite the sofa and scowled at Tom Nook, who was now sitting and ringing his smock out onto the floor. Mink winced. That's a Sahara original, a very expensive and rare carpet being mistreated by a stinky fox in a shop uniform.  
  
"Actually," Nook said, "I'm a Tanooke. It's a Japanese-"  
  
"Look, Nook, I don't give a shit if you're the Pope, it's Sunday morning. What do you want?"  
  
"We got trouble. It's Sven."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"He's dead."  
  
Mink closed his eyes. He'd been waiting for it for a month now, waiting for them to make the next move. He'd known Gulliver for a long time, worked with him in fact on several deals, and knew how he played the game. Son of a bitch. Sven.  
  
"We needed Sven. Fuck. How?"  
  
"Looks like an axe, maybe a shovel. His head's gone."  
  
"Where's Nosequeer?"  
  
"Nosegay, you know she hates it when you c-"  
  
"Where is she?"  
  
"I-I didn't check, she wasn't with Sven."  
  
"Alright, ok. Look, here's what we're gonna do. Find Nosequeer."  
  
"Noseg-"  
  
"Shut up. Find her, take her to the mayor's. They won't go withen fifty fucking acres of that place, and we can't afford her gone too. When that's done, go home. Tomorrow, you open up the shop, same as always. We can't have any funny shit going on, especially when Joan's in town. If she smells anything fishy, she won't come back."  
  
"Can she do that?"  
  
"She's been doing this too long to fall into any obvious traps and I've worked too goddamn hard on this for it to be blown by that little shit Gulliver and whoever the hell he has working for him. Probably that bitch Nosegay. What the fuck kind of name is that anyway? Was Miyamoto high when he though of this shit?"  
  
"Miyawho?"  
  
"Look, just go. I trust you, Nook. Don't make me angry."  
  
Nook gazed longingly at the coffee machine in the corner for a moment, then threw his smock back on and headed for the door.  
  
"Listen," Mink said, following him,"Don't do anything foolish. Business as usual until I say so, ok?"  
  
Nook nodded and, bracing himself, opened the door and flung himself out into the night.  
  
"Son of a bitch."  
  
MInk closed the door and then sat heavily on the chair beside it, putting his head into his hands and letting out a sob. Sven. He'd been almost positive they'd take down Nook. He was bigger than Sven, he had connections. But Gulliver must have realized how much Sven meant to Mink. They'd been lovers, him and Sven, off and on for seven years. Recently things had cooled down, but they'd talked about maybe getting away for awhile once this job was done. He began to weep openly, glad that at least he'd been able to hide his shock from Nook. Now, now it was personal. It wasn't about bells anymore.   
  
"No, no, you have to keep it together."  
  
He'd worked too hard on this to be brought down by Sven's murder. He couldn't let Gulliver win, not this time. He stood up and hugged himself. Once it'd been taken care of, once the job was done, then he'd go after Gulliver. He should've done it a long time ago, but this time he wouldn't be so forgiving. This time, he wanted revenge. 


	2. Chapter Two

June 19, 2003  
  
10:30 a.m.  
  
Tom Nook stood in the shop's muddy doorway, blinking at the brilliant sunlight that, now that the rain had finally let up, was flooding the very tired, very dirty town of Lemon. He surveyed his shop's front gardens, the flowers wilted and brown, the small saplings bent and shivering. For the middle of June, it was downright freezing.   
  
He let out a sigh. He'd known something big was going down, and he was almost ashamed to admit that he was glad it was finally over with. For a month he'd been almost too nervous even to work in the shop, and often had found himself getting impatient with his kids or a customer. In fact, two days ago he'd been horrified to find himself standing behind Kitty, who was bending over examining a used carpet Nook was very discreetly trying to pass off as new, with a golden axe hoisted in the air. He'd urgently flung it aside, just in time. Kitty gave him a searing look that told she'd determined the state of the carpet. She'd shaken her oddly large head and left quietly without saying a word.  
  
Nook, standing in the doorway, let out another sigh. In the distance, the Wishing Well was buzzing with activity. Tortimer had called an emergency town meeting for that afternoon, and Mable and Booker were setting up chairs and tables, hooking up the microphones, and trying desperately top keep Wandering Wendell away from the seafood patte. Mink had insisted on Nook's attendance, claiming it would be suspicious if he were the only one who didn't turn up.  
  
"Turn up, turn up...turnip. God, I'm hungry."  
  
He re-entered the shop, closing the door behind him.  
  
10:34 a.m.  
  
Pinky took a deep breath, then nodded. Officer Copper narrowed his eyes at her, then shrugged and lifted the sheet.  
  
"Holy Christ."  
  
"I told you it was bad. Nook found him early this morning."  
  
"Have we found the head?"  
  
"Not yet. There were some prints outside in the mud, but by the time we got there the rain had partially washed 'em away. No sign of forced entry, nothing stolen."  
  
"Any suspects? Nook?"  
  
"We're working on it. We can't rule out Nook, but personally I don't think it was him."  
  
"What was he doing there at-" she looked at the report,"two twenty-five in the morning? And, according to this, his call to 911 came in at four fifteen. That's almost two hours."  
  
"His footprints were at the scene, but they're not the only ones. Either he had an accomplice or he's telling the truth."  
  
"Well, what took him two hours to make the call?"  
  
Copper shrugged.  
  
"And has anyone heard from Nosegay?"  
  
"No, but we're not exactly worried about it. She doesn't really have any close friends in the villiage, and she's known to sometimes be away for six, seven days at a time. I saw her yesterday."  
  
"Ok. When she gets back, I want you to keep an eye on her. Give me a call if you find anything else. Like the head. When you get those prints back from the lab, send them over right away. And, for Christ sake, can't you get someone else to set up for the meeting? We need Booker to develop the scene photos."  
  
"Have you talked to the mayor?"  
  
Pinky pulled off her gloves while Copper carefully replaced the sheet and slid what was left of Sven back into his drawer, "Not yet. Except for the message he left here this morning, about the meeting, no one has. Let me ask you something."  
  
"Shoot."  
  
"You don't think he has his reptilian fingers in this mysterious pie, do you?"  
  
Copper thought for a second. Slowly, he said, "I can't say for sure. All I know is, he's been...distant lately. He's usually pretty involved in the day-to-day shit around here. In fact, I think it's been about a week since I've even talked to him."  
  
Pinky nodded, "Well, look. Just keep your eyes open. You can trust me, and I turst you, Copper. Anyone else...well, we'll see. I'm out of here."  
  
"Have a safe trip."  
  
Pinky shoved her notes into her fuscia briefcase and disappeared into the blinding sun. Copper stared after her for a moment, then sat at his desk and picked up the phone. 


	3. Chapter Three

10:33 a.m.  
  
"Look, it's all planned out and everything," Nosegay said, accidentally getting a dab of polish on the mayor's expensive Office Flooring. She hastily wiped it up with a cushion someone had carelessly left on the beautiful ivory sofa, and switched her cell-phone to her other hand, "I mean, you know me. I don't play those kinds of games. I won't go near anything unless it's airtight, you know that."  
  
She listened for a moment, then sighed, "I already told you, it's complicated. You wouldn't understand the ins and outs of everything, you're not that smart. Mmm-hmm. Well, ok. I'll give it to you in a nutshell. It's basically a multi-console, multi-game price-gouging operation. Joan's been doing it for years. The villiagers buy the turnips from Joan, and they sell 'em to Nook, who gives 'em about about half what they paid. What do you mean, 'why?', because Joan jacks up the prices, and she never reports the income on her taxes. So Nook gives the turnips back to Joan at the beginning of every week, gets his cut, and Joan re-sells the fakie turnips to the unsuspecting villiagers. Huh? Well, they don't see it like that, apparently. They keep thinking they'll hit it big one of these days, so they keep buying. And then Mink and Nook exchange their bells for rupees, which in turn are exchanged for mushroom coins, and then converted back to bells. they end up making about 16 grand a week. Look, I don't know how it works. Taxes, inflation, I can't figure that shit out. But I know Gulliver is running some similar operation off that island, and recently things've been getting kind of...competitive. Sven got whacked last night, and now I'm stuck in this shithole until they can figure out just what the holy hell is going on. Uh-huh. Yeah, I don't have to do jack shit. I stumbled into it, and told Mink I'd mailed a videotape to someone in case I was knocked off. So he had no choice but to give me a cut. Duh, if I thought it wasn't airtight I really would have gone to the police, moron. You're not the sharpest crayon in the box, are you? Anyway, he can't afford to have me wiped like Sven, because he's afraid the tape'll get out, and it'll be over. So I'm stuck here for God knows how long. It's like that pissant museum here, I mean it. Paintings and expensive furniture that feels like cold fucking stone, and there's even a model of some ancient Indian something or other in the living room, looks like it would fetch a pretty penny on the black market. Oh, you mean Tortimer? That old fuck, he set this shit up years ago, he's been waiting for someone who can pull it off 'cause he can't trust Nook worth a shit. So he just sits back, makes sure the fuzz doesn't get too hot on anyone's trail, and gets a nice piece of our pie. Fucking asshole. Look, I just heard someone coming in the front. I gotta go, ok? I'll talk to you later."  
  
She snapped the cell-phone shut and put it, and the nail polish, back in her bag. A pink and white panda had appeared in the doorway and was giving her a suspicious "you dont belong here" kind of look, the same look that had that fucking old fart mayor had given her last night.  
  
"Who the hell are you?" Nosegay said coldy, leaning back and propping her feet up on the glass coffee table, "You work for the mayor?"  
  
"No, not really. Is he here?"  
  
"Who's asking?"  
  
The panda narrowed her eyes further and leaned against the doorframe, "The name's Pinky. Who are you?"  
  
"Nunya."  
  
"I'm sorry?"  
  
"Nunya. Nunya Fucking Business."  
  
Pinky took a deep breath, "Look. Is Tortimer here, or should I come back?"  
  
Nosegay shrugged, "How should I know? He's probably fucking his secretary or embezzling money or whatever it is mayors do."  
  
Pinky withdrew a business card from her briefcase and set it down upon the cofee table, "Well, when you see him, tell him to give me a call. I'd appreciate it."   
  
And with that she turned and left the room.  
  
"Fatass," Nosegay muttered, closing her eyes and wondering if anyone ever bothered locking their fucking doors in this stupid game.   
  
10:37 a.m.  
  
"Fuck!"  
  
Mink threw the controller across the floor in disgust. He buried his face in his hands. Why couldn't they have sprung for some SNES games, at the very least? Those heinous 8-bit graphics were really making his eyes water. He took in his spacious living room and noted that his own graphics weren't exactly state of the art.   
  
He looked at his wrist, then remembered they hadn't bothered drawing a watch on his freakish, stick-like arm. He glanced at the grandfather clock gathering dust in the corner. Nook's shop should be open by now, and Tortimer would be here any moment. Unless he got caught up by that panda. He'd seen her snooping around the train station earlier, talking to Kitty, who seemed to be enjoying the attention. She could mean trouble. Two years ago, when Jingle'd been jumped on Christmas Eve, she'd been all over it like Bill Clinton on a chubby intern. Well, if he found out she knew anything she shouldn't, he'd have to have her knocked off. That is, after he found someone to replace Sven. Maybe he'd make Nook do it. A very faint paranoia had settled over him recently, and the only person he was sure he could trust had just been brutally murdered. Making Nook take out that meddlesome panda would be a test of his loyalty.   
  
Mink realized he was probably just being neurotic. Nook was making too much money to try any funny shit. If he were working for Gulliver on the side, Mink was certain he'd have found out. Nook wasn't as stupid as he pretended to be.  
  
"At least I hope he's not. Jesus."  
  
He picked up the NES pad and wrapped it meticulously in its black cording, then made himself busy making coffee, clearing the room of old pizza boxes and half-empty cans of Nook's disgusting homemade pina-colada punch. He cracked a window and was trying to fit thirty-seven gay porno magazines under the sofa when someone knocked, once, on the front door.  
  
"Coming!"  
  
He kicked the last of the magazines and, satisfied that they were properly hidden, hurried to answer the door.  
  
"Mayor! What an honor! Please, come in."  
  
"Cut the shit. I'm alone."  
  
The wizened old mayor settled into the lumpy armchair opposite the sofa and tucked his collapsable cane into his vest pocket. His prosthetic leg let out a low, barely audible flatulent noise.  
  
"Can I get you some coffee?"  
  
"Sure as hell is hot! Sweet baby Jesus, it's colder than a dead prostitute out there! June, hmph! It's February still, my old bones tell me so."  
  
"Maybe someone's been cheating the internal clock," Mink said, stirring the mayor's coffee. He put it on the table next to a week-old sandwhich he must've missed in his sweep of the living room. He blushed and took the plate into the kitchen, "Milk? Cream? Sanka?"  
  
"None for me. I like my brew like I like my men: hot, black, strong and first thing in the morning!" The mayor let out an explosive laugh, then began to cough violently into his handkerchief.  
  
Mink laughed politely and settled onto the sofa, crossing his legs and looking expectantly at the mayor as he sipped his coffee.  
  
"God, that's terrible. Where did you get those beans, from Nook?"  
  
"Yeah, but it's instant."  
  
"Bah! Haven't you learned anything? You can't get good coffee from that asshole. You have to have it imported from the island."  
  
"I'm not too popular on the island at the moment, sir."  
  
"Oh, please. Not everyone is as crooked as we are!" The mayor shook with laughter, and then again coughing bits of blood and gore into his kerchief.  
  
"Well, anyway, boy, I've been busier than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest. I just wanted to make sure everything was still...functioning."  
  
"Yes, sir," Mink leaned foward and began abset-mindedly scraping a crusty bit of pizza sauce from the edge of the table, "I've got Nook at the shop, same as always. Of course, Joan'll have heard about Sven, but I think if things are kept under control, she won't back out."  
  
"That's right. Joan may be a fat brown slob, a monsterous, shit-colored fatty, but she's no dummy. She'll just call the whole thing off and not even come back to Lemon. And then, even I won't be able to stop Copper from nosing around. He'll be a little suspicious, I would be too."  
  
"So why don't you get rid of him?"  
  
"It's not that easy, my boy. He's been on the force for over fifteen years. Do you know how it would look if i just fired him out of the blue? And besides which, who would I get to replace him, Booker? Ha! Booker doesn't know his ass from his elbow."  
  
"I'd feel a lot better if Booker were in charge, let me tell you."  
  
Tortimer scowled, "I'm in charge, son. Don't forget that. I call the shots. I've got that old dog Copper on a short leash, and if he starts sniffing around where he ain't supposed to, well then I'll just give him a bit of a yank, won't I?"  
  
"I suppose. But what about that panda? I saw her this morning, talking to Kitty."  
  
The mayor frowned, "Pinky? She's nothing but trouble. From the state, she is. I have no control over her, and I'm sure if she's here she's already been at my station, wantin' to see the body. Asking questions, making notes. We'll just have to be even more careful."  
  
Mink nodded. They were quiet for a moment, and then he asked, "How is Nosegay?"  
  
"Heh? Oh, she's an annoying twat as usual. I made it real clear that she's not to step foot out of that house. She's a nosy one anyway, so she's not too happy about being cooped up there for a few days. But we can't be sure that she didn't really make a tape. Personally, I don't think she did, but we can't risk it. I'm the mayor, but I'm not exempt from the law, you know. I wouldn't put it past her to make some sort of a tape, just to be a perfect bitch even from beyond the grave."  
  
Mink smiled, "Well, at least you'll have some company for awhile. It must get pretty lonely at that old place."  
  
"I like the quiet. I read a lot, listen to a little Ella Fitzgerald. Nothin' like Ella to melt away your problems." He stared at the ceiling contentedly for a moment before clearing his throat and looking around Mink's living room, as if suddenly unsure of his surrondings.  
  
"Well, you don't have anything to worry about sir. I'll make sure Nook stays in line."  
  
"You do that," Tortimer was standing up, unfolding his cane and shaking out his leg a little, "You make sure that Pinky doesn't get her dirty paws all in her pie. It'd be...unfortunate if something were to happen to her."  
  
Mink nodded and held the door open for the mayor, who was walking rather slowly as he still didn't have his cane fully constructed. When he had, he leaned against it and gave Mink a slight smile, "I'll see you at the town meeting?"  
  
"Wouldn't miss it," Mink said, returning the smile.  
  
"Just the usual bullshit. Tell everyone we're working our damndest to solve the crime. Find the head, all that. Alright, Mink, we're sqaured away. I'll see you later."  
  
He left, and Mink closed the door behind him. 


	4. Chapter Four

11:01 a.m.  
  
Tom Nook heard the bell over the door ring, and he shoved the last bit of peach cobbler in his mouth and made his way out of the crowded stock room. By his own rules, there was absolutely no eating in the shop, but he'd been starving all day. Maybe it was stress.  
  
When he entered the main storeroom, he saw a vaguely familiar-looking pink and white panda standing in the doorway, casting cautious looks at his wares. Nook cleared his throat and she jumped slightly.   
  
Pinky smiled, "Charming store you've got here."  
  
"Why thank you!" Nook wiped his mouth with a napkin and shoved it in his pocket, smiling his customary phony smile, "Welcome to Nook's Cranny! Your one-stop shopping emporium! I'm Tom Nook, owner."  
  
"How quaint. My name is Pinky, I work for the State Department of Law Enforecement," she offered her hand.  
  
Nook took it, his smile faltering slightly, "The state, huh? What brings you to our humble villiage?"  
  
Pinky laughed, "Surely you're aware of the horrible crime that was committed against one of your fellow villiagers?"  
  
"Oh, of course! It simply was a tragedy," Nook mopped his brow with his soiled napkin, "You know, Sven was always a loyal customer. Always such a nice lad, very polite. In fact, I was the one who...happened upon him. Simply awful, I don't know why anyone would want to...do such a terrible thing. Sven! He wouldn't hurt a fly."  
  
Pinky picked up a heavy gardening shovel Nook had priced at double what he'd paid. She dropped it back onto the floor and raised an eyebrow at the salesman, "Heavy! What's it do?"  
  
"I'm sorry?"  
  
"What does it do? Surely it's not merely a standard shovel! Not for," she squinted at the tag, "500 bells?"  
  
"Well, it's very expensive to have them shipped you know, because of the weight. Pete simply hates delivering them."  
  
"I see." Pinky looked at Nook appraisingly, then smiled. Nook nervously tittered, then managed a slight smile of his own.  
  
"I actually have a reason to come see you today, Mr. Nook. I've decided to stay in town for a few days, helping with the investigation, you know. The police force here in Lemon is so under-staffed. So I'll be needing a place to stay. I've heard you have a few empty...what are you calling them, shacks? that you may be able to rent out."  
  
"Ah...ah, well, yes, I am the owner o-of some real estate, but..I usually don't rent. No, no, you always lose a profit when you rent, because you're still responsible for the upkeep." Nook seemed satisfied with his answer and tried to make himself look taller and more intimidating than he actually was.  
  
"But surely you could make an exception? I'd be willing to pay upfront."  
  
"Ah, ah, you see, that's going to be a problem, b-because-"  
  
"Because I've already rented out the shacks through the weekend."  
  
Pinky, startled, turned toward the sound of this new voice. Tortimer was leaning on his cane in the doorway, beaming at the two of them.  
  
"Mayor Tortimer! What an honor to see you again, sir." Nook let out a sigh of obvious relief.  
  
"Pinky is it?" Tortimer said, ignoring Nook, "I remember you from the Jingle investigation! Fine work, fine work, love. But about those houses! I'm terribly sorry, but I have guests coming and I've rented them through into next week. Perhaps you could stay at the new Comfort Inn in Flatpoint? It's only a short train ride away, and they're very reasonable."  
  
"Yes, that's an idea. At any rate, I wanted to talk to you about the investigation, Mr. Mayor, if you have a few moments."  
  
"I'm afraid not, my dear," Tortimer was still beaming, his toothy grin stretched tight across his weathered face, "I've got a town meeting to prepare for. I'm sure all your questions about the investigation will be answered there. I've simply come to check with Mr. Nook to see if the beverage cart is ready?" He raised his bushy eyebrows at Nook, who muttered something and hurried out of the room.  
  
"No offense, Mr. Mayor, but I'm no simple villiager hungry for the latest gossip. I've been sent here by the state to investigate, and I expect full cooperation from you and your forces."  
  
Tortimer still smiled at her, but there was a hint of maleviolence in his voice when he said, "You might want to think about who you're talking to, dear. I've got a lot of connections, a lot of friends at the state."  
  
Pinky stiffened. She stared at the Mayor, struggling to keep her composure, "Is that so? Well let me tell you something, Mayor: My father just so happens to go by the name Art Fowler. That's right, the state's attorney general. More powerful men than you have stood in my way, only to be crushed like the little pissants they were. One letter, and I could be running this hokey shithole. You might just want to keep that in mind. Good day."  
  
And with that, she stormed out of the shop, almost knocking the stunned mayor over in her haste to make a grand exit.  
  
Tortimer looked after her for a moment, gritting his wooden teeth, scowling. Art Fowler? Art "Prowler" Fowler, the man who once, as a young proesecutor in Maple County, sentenced a woman to seventeen years hard time for stealing a loaf of bread to feed her four children? Holy fuck.  
  
"Here you are, sir, all ready. I've made my extra-special Pina Colada Punch, some iced peach tea, lemonade, and of course coffees, hot teas, chocol-"  
  
"Shut up, Nook. Let me think for Christ's sake."  
  
Nook, crestfallen, pretended to straighten up the beverage cart while the mayor stared stonily out the door. Finally, Tortimer shook his head and made his way out into the muddy front garden.  
  
"Mayor!" Nook called after him. Tortimer turned, distractedly.  
  
"The beverage cart! I need someone to take it to the plaza, I can't leave the shop."  
  
Tortimer looked annoyed, "Look, whatever. Don't even bother. And yes, you can still submit the fucking bill to the town. Jesus Christ, I've got better things to worry about right now."  
  
He stormed off, muttering to himself. Nook huffed, "Hmph! They sure will be disappointed when there's no Pina Colada Punch!" 


	5. Chapter Five

11:07 a.m.  
  
"Mink? Yeah, it's Nosegay. What's going on with this meeting? Am I allowed to come or what?"  
  
"Nosegay, what the fuck are you doing? Didn't the mayor tell you those phones can't be trusted?"  
  
"Relax, I'm on my cell."  
  
"Look, I'm very busy, ok? No, you are not allowed at the meeting. You are to stay in that house and if anyone comes, HIDE! Do you understand me?"  
  
"Yeah, Jesus, calm down. I was only asking. Hey, what's up with that-," she looked at the card she'd been absentmindedly turning over in her hand, "Pinky chick from the state? What a bitch, huh?"  
  
There was a very conspicuous silence on the other end of the line. Nosegay squinted, "Hello?"  
  
"Was she there? Did she see you?" He was talking very quickly, he sounded excited about something.  
  
"Yeah, she came by about a half hour ago. Is she gonna fuck things up? Cause you know if I go down y'all are coming down with me."  
  
"Shit. Shit, this isn't good. What did she say?"  
  
"I don't know, she was looking for the mayor. She didn't know who I was."  
  
Click. He'd hung up on her.  
  
"Ugh!" she said, throwing the phone onto the floor in disgust, "Asshole!"  
  
11:08 a.m.  
  
Mink dropped the phone and raced towards the door, not even bothering to shut off the television or the ziti baking in the oven. He ran as quick as he could, past the message board with it's soggy postings, past the gyroid still dancing it's crazy dance, past the dandelion field Kitty had painstakenly planted in front of her hideous pink and yellow house. He didn't bother stopping for breath until he'd reached the Wishing Well plaza, where he collapsed on the hard grey cobbles.  
  
"Jesus, Mink, are you ok?" Mable asked, looking up from the boquet of wildflowers she was trying to tie onto the micorphone stand.  
  
He nodded, gulping in massive quantities of cold, wet air. His throat began to burn, and he started to cough.  
  
"Cripes! Mink, here, have some water."  
  
She handed him a half-empty bottle of Evian, which he finished in one grateful swallow. Mabel was looking around distractedly, "Nook should've had that beverage cart here already. Where's Pete?"  
  
She left Mink still gasping on the ground and walked over to where Booker was scraping some chalky white substance off one of the folding chairs, "Where's Pete? He was supposed to be here in case we needed him. Parden my french, but if that beverage cart isn't here soon the mayor will have my ass."  
  
Booker shrugged, "Maybe he had some mail to deliver."  
  
Mabel stared at him in disbelief, "It's Sunday, you blockhead. Are you high?"  
  
Mink stood up, and hiccuped. Mabel turned around and saw him filling the now empty bottle with water from the wishing well.  
  
"Mink, don't do that. It's probably all rain water."  
  
"Actually," said the well, "I'd much appreciate someone letting out some of this excess fluid! I feel as bloated as Anna Nicole Smith!"  
  
Mink took a swig of the putrid water and winced. He turned to Mabel, "Have you seen the mayor? It's urgent."  
  
"No, not today. He should be here soon though, the meeting's been pushed up to one o'clock."  
  
"Since when?"  
  
"Don't you read the board, silly? Anyway, Mink, I really need to get this done."  
  
Mink swore under his breath and poured the rest of the water back into the well.  
  
"I sense a great sadness about the land!" it screamed, but Mink was already walking dejectedly back towards his house. He needed to talk to the mayor before the town meeting. If Pinky truly hadn't recognized Nosegay, they might be ok. Even so, they'd have to be prepared with an appropriate cover story for the strange aardvark-looking thing in the mayor's house. A maid? A mistress, or granddaughter perhaps?   
  
When he reached his house, Pete the pelican mailman was sitting on his front stoop, reading "Postman's Weekly". When he heard approaching footsteps, he looked up and, seeing Mink, grinned and leaped to his feet.  
  
"Morning, Mink! Hey, didja hear about Sven?"  
  
"Awful, wasn't it Pete?"  
  
"Oh, yeah. Wasn't Sven always such a nice guy?"  
  
"Yeah, listen Pete, I'm real busy, what can I do for you?"  
  
"Oh, yeah! I usually don't deliver on Sunday, everyone knows that, but I got this package here at the office this morning, it says "real urgent" and "please rush", so I thought I'd bring it on by."  
  
"Well, thank you Pete." Mink took the small, heavy box from Pete and dug out his wallet with his free hand, "Look, here's something for the trouble. Now get going."  
  
"Jeeze, thanks a ton Mink! See you at the meetin', huh?" And, without waiting for a response, he flew off.  
  
Mink shook his head and looked down at the box. It was a plain cardboard box but, sure enough, someone had furiously scrawled "urgent", "please rush", "life or death" and others on it's front and sides. The small white label read simply: "Mink, Lemon."  
  
He narrowed his eyes suspiciously and gave the box a good hard shake. Something heavy wobbled about inside, maybe a bowling ball? Genuinely curious now, Mink set the box down on his welcome mat and tore it open.  
  
Inside was Sven's severed head. Someone had sewn his lips shut and his eyes were scratched and burned. Mink backed away slowly, transfixed. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the head, or the words that'd been carved into his forehead:  
  
YOU'RE NEXT. 


	6. Chapter Six

12:27 p.m.  
  
Copper was leaning back in his chair, his feet propped on on the desk, hands behind his head, thinking. Something had been nagging him all day, and he had a feeling it was something fairly important. What wasn't he seeing?  
  
He tried to clear his mind. Think of it, he thought, from Pinky's perspective. She's an outsider, no close friends in the villiage, doesn't know anything about anyone here. She seemed to think Nosegay's absense was suspicious. It was rather odd, he had to admit. He'd seen her just the day before, at the train station talking to Porter. It'd been raining, she must've taken shelter under there until it'd let up a bit.  
  
His eyes flew open.  
  
"Son of a bitch," he muttered, "Son of a fucking bitch."  
  
He jumped to his feet and grabbed his holster from the windowsill. It took him a bit longer than usual to get to the train station, as he had to either walk through or make his way around the vast puddles of thick mud. When he did get there, he saw Porter standing at attention in his usual spot, smiling vaguely, his eyes focusing on nothing in particular in the distance.  
  
"Porter?" Copper leaned foward with his hands on his knees, gasping for breath. He'd taken the last few yards at a brisk jog.  
  
Porter jumped and seemed to notice him for the first time, "Oh! Officer Copper, I'm glad to see you! Are you taking a trip?"  
  
"Not today, my simian friend. Just need to ask you some questions. Police business, and all that."  
  
Porter nodded, "Is it about poor Mr. Sven? Such a nice guy, he was."  
  
"Yeah, i agree. But this doesn't really have anything to do with that. I just wanted to ask you a simple question."  
  
"Ok."  
  
"Do remember a pink and white panda coming through here recently? She works for the state law enforcement?"  
  
Porter scratched his head, "I recall seeing her earlier today, walking out of Mr. Nook's shop in a huff. I know I've seen her somewhere before, it's been driving me loco all day."  
  
"So, you didn't see her yesterday, or early this morning?"  
  
"Not through here, no sir. She must've come from the island."  
  
Copper scowled, "And Nosegay? Has she taken any trips recently?"  
  
"Well, last week she went over to Flatpoint to buy some new shoes. She was in such a state yesterday, them shoes got so muddy! Paid 4000 bells for 'em, can you believe that?" He shook his head sadly, "4000 bells would put food in my kids' bellies for a year! But Ms. Nosegay is always so quicktempered, maybe she needs them shoes to make her happy."  
  
Copper was staring out towards the wishing well plaza, ignoring Porter's low mutterings. He'd asked Pinky that morning if her train ride had been a pleasent one, and she told him it's been a little turbulent due the recent storms and the mud on the tracks. Why would she lie? What was she hiding? And where the hell was Nosegay?  
  
"The island," he whispered.  
  
Son of a bitch. 


	7. Chapter Seven

12:39 p.m.  
  
"Booker, can I talk to you for a second?" Copper strolled casually into the wishing well plaza, pulling his cap down to keep out the brilliant sunlight.  
  
"Sure, Copper," Booker carefully set the massive clump of tangled wires he'd been trying to sort through and waddled over to where Copper was standing.  
  
"Booker, have you seen a pink and white panda today? Goes by the name of Pinky, works for the state department of law enforcement?"  
  
"Sure enough, Copper. I saw her a couple times, heading over to police station, then to the mayor's. I saw her leave Nook's shop 'round eleven or so. Why do you ask?"  
  
"Well, I can't prove anything just yet, but I've got a sneaking suspicion she may have been involved with what went down here last night."  
  
Booker's eyes widened, "You mean, Sven? You think she killed Sven?"  
  
Copper scowled, "I don't know. I was thinking about it and I realized she'd gotten here amazingly quickly. She was waiting for me back at the station when I got back from the crime scene. She'd said she's gotten a train from Calistan, but when I asked Porter he told me she hadn't passed through the train station."  
  
"Wow, that is pretty stange. What do you think she's hiding?"  
  
"I don't know. She must've come from the island, which is where I think Nosegay went, because Porter hadn't seen her either. There's something mighty fishy going on on that island, Booker."  
  
"I agree. What should we do?"  
  
"I'm going to have a chat with Mayor Tortimer, I want you to stay here and keep an eye out."  
  
Something suddenly struck him.  
  
"Booker?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"You said you saw Pinky coming out of Nook's around eleven?"  
  
"Yeah. She looked pretty peeved."  
  
"Yeah, that's what Porter said. Hmm."  
  
"What's the matter?"  
  
"I assumed she'd be heading back to the state office. She told me to send her the prints from the scene at her office."  
  
"This just gets stranger and stranger. Maybe she stopped by Nook's to get some new duds before she left. It's pretty muddy around here."  
  
"Maybe. In that case, she should be on the island now. But, if you see her, try and keep an eye on her. Be discreet, and if she talks to you, be polite. Don't make her wary, understand?"  
  
"Yes, sir!"  
  
"Ok, as you were."  
  
Copper walked quickly back to the station. Once there, he sat at his desk and picked up the phone, dialing the Mayor's number with the push of a single pre-programed button.  
  
12:45  
  
"Hello?" Nosegay said, hitting the speaker button and shoving the rest of the BLT into her mouth.   
  
"Hello? Who is this?"  
  
"Mmmph mmmmph?"  
  
"I'm sorry?"  
  
She downed the last of her Michelob and sat up, "I said, 'Who's asking?'"  
  
"This is Officer Rusty Copper, Lemon P.D. May I speak to Mayor Tortimer?"  
  
"He's not in, pig."  
  
"Excuse me? Who in the hell is this?"  
  
Nosegay lifted the reciver and blew a massive raspberry into the mouthpiece before slamming it back down again, "What a shithead. I hate the fuzz."  
  
She stood up, absent-mindedly tossing her plate over her shoulder. It shattered on the expensive carpet.   
  
"La da da," she hummed, plucking an antique glass knome from the bookcase and shoving it in her pocket. Christ, what a shithole, she thought.  
  
"Ah, this is nice." She's stopped at a beautiful painting hanging on the wall. It was the Mona Lisa, a replica, but an exact and very old one. She wiped her greasy fingers over the canvas, then punched a hole through the center of Mona Lisa's face.  
  
"That'll teach you to smile, bitch. GOD i'm bored!"  
  
Nosegay flung herself onto the sofa and reached for the remote. Why were the fuzz calling, didn't they know there was a big town meeting? She's heard on the radio it'd been rescheduled for one o'clock.  
  
She settled on a documentary about the migration habits of Canadians and closed her eyes. It'd been a long day, she needed some sleep. Withen minutes she was snoring loudly. 


	8. Chapter Eight

1:01 p.m.  
  
Mayor Tortimer cleared his throat, surveying the small crowd before him. There were the villiagers in their metal folding chairs, the scattered press from neighboring towns, and his own police force in the back, arms folded, looking not unlike a couple of bouncers slightly past their prime.  
  
"I'd like to thank everyone for coming," he said, "Especially on such short notice."  
  
Mink sat in the first row, his hands folded neatly in his lap.  
  
"As you all know, a terrible tragedy has befallen the good people of Lemon."  
  
As Tortimer continued, Mink closed his eyes and let the sound of that low baritone lull him into a light sleep. His hands slipped, and his arms dangled uselessly at his sides as his head lolled back on his neck.  
  
He was standing in the middle of a lush green valley. In the distance he could hear the sweet symphony of the birds, the rustling of a gentle summer wind in the trees. Beside him, Sven held his hand tightly. A huge smile stole across Mink's face.  
  
"Sven," he whispered, turning to face him, "Sven, you've come home."  
  
Sven's eyes were scratched and bleeding. A long, sinewy gash ran the length of his battered face, and blood and pus had plastered his hair to his skull, framing it like some sort of twisted renaissance painting. His mouth opened, and a river of squirming maggots issued forth, and through his screams Mink could hear these whispered words, like a prophecy:  
  
"You're next."  
  
He awoke with a start. On the hastily constructed stage, Mayor Tortimer was bending down towards him, leaning on his cane. Mink looked around and realized everyone was staring, mouths open wide.  
  
"Boy, are you alright? You're talking jibberish." the Mayor stood up, his knees giving very audible pops, "Now, if you're quite through, I'd like to continue."  
  
Mink nodded quickly, not meeting the Mayor's eyes. Around him, people continued to stare.  
  
"Mink, are...are you ok?" Mabel asked beside him. She looked deeply concerned.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"You must've fallen asleep, and then you started screaming."  
  
Mink narrowed his eyes, "What did I say?"  
  
"You called Sven's name. You said, 'his head, his head'."  
  
Mink took a deep breath and forced a smile, "I guess I was having a nightmare."  
  
Mabel took his hand in hers, "I know you and Sven were good friends. And he was such a nice guy, he's going to be missed. If you ever need anyone to talk to, I'm here for you. You know where to find me."  
  
Mink nodded, and was greatly relieved when she returned her attention back to the mayor's speech.  
  
"We need to show whoever is responsible for this cowardly crime that we will not stand for it. Whoever did this to our town, know this: We will hunt you down like an animal. We will find you and smote you!"  
  
There was a scattering of applause from the villiagers, and immediately the reporters gathered below the stage began to bark out questions.  
  
"Now, now," Tortimer said, "One at a time, one at a time!"  
  
Mink stood up, and a few others follwed suit, while the rest stayed to hear the mayor answer the reporters' questions.   
  
His head was pounding. He'd taken a handful of aspirin after he'd safely burried the box with the missing head in the back of his pear dresser, but they hadn't seemed to kick in yet.  
  
"It's been two fucking hours," he mumbled. He'd opted for the long-lasting over the fast-acting and regretted it.  
  
"Mink!" behind him, Nook was struggling to catch up. Mink pretended not to hear and walked faster.  
  
"Mink! Mink, I need to talk to you!" his voice was growing more distant, and Mink slowed his pace. Finally he reached his house and tore open the door, glad to be in, out of the cold and the low roar of the excited villiagers talking amoungst themselves on their way back to their houses.  
  
"Mink!" It was Nook, pounding on his front door. As he slid beneath the covers of his four-poster bed in his luxurious second-floor suite, he almost wished he believed in God or Allah so he could thank them he'd gotten that Schlage lock imported from Calistan last month. Nook continued to pound away for a few more agonizing moments before finally giving up and heading reluctantly back to the shop. Mink let out a deep breath and hugged himself, shivering.   
  
1:47 p.m.  
  
The door to the cavana dresser stood ajar, and a shadowy figure emerged from it's depths. It climbed out from it's confinement and glided across the room, silently pulling a long, thin instrument from it's garments. It stopped when it'd reached the bed where Mink lay, snoring slightly, and hoisted the instrument high above it's head.  
  
It brought it down in one smooth, fluid motion. Mink's head was instantly severed from his neck, and it's only regret was that it had to be so painless.  
  
"You were warned," it growled, gently removing the head from the sopping pillow where it rested. It retreated down the stairs, out the front door, and disapperaed in knot of trees a few yards in front of the house.  
  
6:34 p.m.  
  
The town of Lemon rested peacefully, nestled between the majestic Mt. Timber and the endless blue that was the Shiny Sea. On it's white beaches, the fisherman were tethering their rickety boats to the pier, and one by one, each of the small homes in the villiage was illuminated from within. Children were being called to dinner, men and women were coming home after long days working at the train station, docks, or the illegal sweat shop run with machine-like effiency by the Able sisters, and in the wishing well plaza, the stage that had been so urgently erected had just as quickly been taken down. Anyone who hadn't been there earlier would have been hard-pressed to say anything had happened there at all.   
  
Lights were dimmed a little earlier than usual that evening: it'd been a long day for everyone. But tonight they would sleep well, safe in the knowledge that the worst was behind them. 


	9. Chapter Nine

June 20, 2003  
  
7:57 a.m.  
  
"Apparently, there was some sort of error on the part of the writer," Nosegay said, "June 19, 2003 was actually a Thursday, so today is Friday, not Monday. Understand? Hey, I'm not complaining. It's like a free weekend or something. Or time travel. I just hope I'm not stuck in this fucking dump all weekend."  
  
She pulled the lever on the side of the La-Z-Boy and found herself reclining at a slight angle.  
  
"I have got to get me one of these."  
  
She was just hanging up the phone when Tortimer stumbled in from the kitchen, taking long, protracted sips of coffee from a chipped mug. He was wearing an old baby-blue bathrobe, and a pair of fuzzy pink slippers.  
  
"Nice outfit. Fucking fairy."  
  
"You should show a little more respect, young lady. I'm old enough to be your grandfather, and I also happen to be the mayor of this town!" He slammed his mug on the coffee table and settled into the sofa, wincing as he bent his scabby knees.  
  
"Don't flatter yourself, you're old enough to be a fucking caveman. Did I mention you look like a fairy?"  
  
"I want you to stop using the phone. If that Pinky from the state gets a permit for a tap or something, and if she finds out you're here, we're in for a heap of trouble."  
  
"Tell her we're fucking. What's the big deal?"  
  
"You're missing the point. It would look very suspicious that I've been hiding you here since Sven's murder. They'd start investigating you, understand?"  
  
Nosegay rolled her eyes, "Let them! What are they going to find, that drunk driving charge back in high school? That time I was arrested for possession at my brother's stag party? Who cares? And besides, you should be the last person telling me not to use my phone. If my friend with the tape doesn't hear from me in two days, he sends a copy to every major news network in the state." She grinned mischievously, "You don't want that to happen, do you?"  
  
Tortimer gritted his teeth, "No, of course not. I just thought that-"  
  
He was interupted by the sound of the manor's front door being flung open, practically tossed aside. Nosegay jumped up from her chair, and Tortimer had just gotten to his feet when Nook stumbled into the room.  
  
"Mayor, holy shit, holy shit, holy sh-"  
  
"Calm down!" Tortimer barked, reaching out with his cane and giving Nook a good, hard whack across the small of his back. Nook doubled over and screamed.  
  
"What the fuck is going on?" Nosegay cried, "Is this a freakout? Is he freakin' out?"  
  
"Mayor!" Nook stood erect, wincing, "Mink, Mink is dead! His head is gone, just like Sven's!"  
  
Tortimer stiffened. Nosegay's mouth formed a perfect 'O' as she stared in horror at the shopekeeper panting and sweating before her.  
  
"I r-ran all the way here. I didn't tell nobody, this is bad, holy fuck!"  
  
Tortimer, white-faced, turned to Nosegay, "You are to stay here, do you understand me? This is very serious. If you leave this house, you do so at your own risk."  
  
She nodded mutely.  
  
"Nook, get yourself together. I want to see the scene myself before the police get involved. It's within my rights as mayor and as head of the squad. Let's go."  
  
8:09 a.m.  
  
"What were you doing at Mink's house anyway?" Tortimer wheezed as they made their way through the still, sleepy forest. Most if the villiages hadn't heard about the mix-up involving the dates.  
  
Nook stumbled on a root jutting up from the floor, "I tried to talk to him yesterday, after the meeting. I had some of pina-colada punch left over and I know how much he really enjoys it. But he seemed in a bit of a hurrry, so I though I'd catch up with him today."  
  
"I see."  
  
They continued on in silence for awhile, making their way slowly towards the train station.  
  
"Nook, did anyone see you there this morning? Anyone at all?"  
  
"No, definately not. It's so early! No one saw me."  
  
"You're quite sure?"  
  
"Quite." He sounded anything but.  
  
When they'd reached Mink's front door, Tortimer turned to Nook, "You stay here. If anyone happens by, kill them. Drag the body to the dump."  
  
Nook's eyes widened, "Wh-WHAT?"  
  
Tortimer shook with laughter, "HA! Relax, Nook. I'm kidding. Follow me, and for Christ's sake don't get your nasty prints on anything!"  
  
"It might be a bit late for that, sir. You see I wasn't overly cautious the first time I was here, seeing as how I didn't expect to find a decapitated body in the upstairs bedroom."  
  
"Easily solved. Run to the shop and bring back a chair or something. Something heavy, so you'll have an excuse for being here."  
  
Nook looked confused, "What's that?"  
  
Tortimer shook his head, "Are you in a k-hole? You can say you delivered the furniture, jackass. Get going. I don't need help finding the upstairs bedroom."  
  
Nook seemed glad to get out of the house, and he was out the door in the blink of an eye.  
  
Tortimer sighed and made his way up the stairs. 


	10. Chapter Ten

8:27 a.m.  
  
"Morning, Officers!" Pinky said cheerily, setting a tray of coffee and doughnuts on Booker's desk, "You guys set your clocks back?"  
  
Booker looked nervously at Copper, who shrugged, "Yeah. The lab called, they're sending the prints over this afternoon."  
  
"Great."  
  
She took a jelly-filled doughnut and sat on the bench in the holding cell, crossing her legs, "And the scene photos?"  
  
"I was just on my way to finish those up," Booker said, standing up, "It shouldn't take too long."  
  
"Later, Booker," Copper nodded to him as he left the station. He turned back to the holding cell, where Pinky was wiping her mouth daintily with a pink cloth handkerchief.  
  
She noticed him staring at her and tilted her head, "Something the matter?"  
  
He crossed the room and grabbed the cell's door, slamming it shut and taking a quick step back.  
  
Pinky remained sitting, "Come on, we don't have time for games, I wanted to talk to you about something I-"  
  
"Where were you yesterday during the town meeting?"  
  
"What? What are you talking about? I was on my way to Flatpoint, they've got that new Comfort Inn. Where did you think I was?" She stood up and walked quickly over the the cell door, "Copper, stop fucking around. Let me out."  
  
He sat down at his desk and turned in his chair to face her, "Not until you answer some of my questions."  
  
She bit her lip, "Copper, I'm not playing around with you. Open the fucking door or I'm going to have to call Mayor Tortimer." She produced a pink and white cellular phone from her jacket pocket and held it up, "I'm sure he won't be too pleased to hear that his top cop has been mishandling state officials."  
  
"You must've had a rough journey coming in yesterday, what with the rain."  
  
"What? I told you-"  
  
"Cut the shit. I talked to Porter, I know you didn't get here by train. You want to tell me what's going on?"  
  
She stiffened, "Copper, you're making a big mistake. Look, I know it looks suspicious, but you have to trust me. I wish I could tell you what's going on, but I'm under strict orders n-"  
  
He cut her off, "Pinky, I'm going to let you out, I have to. But I'm going to have my eye on you, do you understand?"  
  
She nodded, and he stood up, crossing over to the cell and opening the door. He didn't meet her eyes as she stepped past him into the station proper.  
  
"Copper, you're a great cop. You trust your instincts, but they can be wrong sometimes."  
  
"Whatever," he threw the keys onto Booker's chair, "Why don't you just leave?"  
  
She shook her head, opened her mouth as if you say something else, and then decided against it. She walked silently out of the station.  
  
Coppper closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The sooner they found that head and made an arrest, the better. He couldn't wait to put this all behind him.  
  
8:32 a.m.  
  
"Morning, Sable!" Booker said, nodding his head in her direction. She gave him a nervous smile.  
  
"Is your sister here?"  
  
"Um, no, she was going to Flatpoint to get some new material. She should be back later this afternoon."  
  
"That's ok, I'm just here to pick up my pictures. You don't mind, do you?"  
  
Sable shook her head.  
  
Booker made his way to the back of the shop. The girls' father had been an avid photographer, and his lab was kept well-maintained for various civic and police purposes. He stopped, however, before he reached the small door leading to the sweatshop and, further, the lab. He knelt down at Sable's desk and grinned, "Hey, honey, why don't you take a little break? We could go on back to the darkroom and-"  
  
"No!" she hissed, trembling, "Just leave me alone, ok? Please."  
  
"Hey," he said, holding up his hands, "I was just thinking you look a little...hungry. You're not Catholic, you eat meat on friday, huh? C'mon, baby."  
  
She stood up defiantly and stared him straight in the eye, "I wouldn't suck your dick if I were suffocating and there was oxygen in your balls! Now get your pictures and get the fuck out!"  
  
He stared up at her, shocked.  
  
"You heard me, beat it!"  
  
"Yes ma'am!" he stammered, almost tripping over himself in his haste. He stumbled through the back door and, ignoring the pleas of the women shackled to their stations in the sweatshop, made a beeline for the photolab.  
  
Sable remained sanding, her tiny fists balled in anger, until Booker reentred the shop. He scurried outside, not even glancing in her direction. She sat down heavily once he'd gone and began meticulously sewing the buttons on a fuzzy pink sweater. 


	11. Chapter Eleven

8:41 a.m.  
  
Nosegay sat on the mayor's couch, slumped over, a listless expression on her face. The television was on, and as she indiscriminately flicked through the channels she let out a sigh. At least things were starting to get interesting, she thought. Still though, it was so mind-numbingly boring, sitting in the mayor's cold, solumn mansion.  
  
"Ugh!" she threw the remote down in disgust. There was nothing on, and she didn't feel like sitting there anyway.  
  
"Fuck this, I'm going out," she said defiantly, arranging her hair in an ornate mirror hanging over the mantle. Satisfied with her appearence, she turned to leave. Nook and the mayor were coming in from the kitchen, both out of breath and muddy from their journey.  
  
Shit, she thought, sinking back onto the couch.  
  
.  
  
Nook sat down next to Nosegay, who looked horrified, "I wonder who's going to be next? Probably me. I've got a wife and kids!" tears were welling in his eyes, and Nosegay threw a pleading look to Tortimer, who eased himself into the recliner and said, "Mink's dead, all right. Head gone, just like Sven. This isn't good. Stop blubbering, Nook! Let me think."  
  
Nook blew his nose on his apron and sniffed, "I can't deal with this shit, I want out."  
  
Tortimer shook his head, "Don't start, Nook. You knew what you were getting into, you knew the risks involved."  
  
"Yeah, jail! Five to six years in a minimum security prison with conjugal visits, that's what! Not...not this. They killed Sven, and Mink, they kidnapped your own granddaughter, mayor!"  
  
Tortimer was ignoring him, staring out the window, lost in his thoughts. Seven months ago, his twelve year old granddaughter had mysteriously vanished from her bunk at her summer camp over in Calistan. Her parents had sued the camp, for neglact, but the mayor knew otherwise. It'd been Gulliver's doing.  
  
Nosegay scratched her head, "Anyway, now that both Mink and Sven are dead I don't think Joan would come near Lemon again. She won't risk it."  
  
"You're probably right," Nook said hopefully, "Which means Gulliver or whoever will just leave us alone, right mayor?"  
  
Tortimer gave him a pitying look, "Nook, you are so naive. Why would they just 'leave us alone', as you put it? So we could rat them out to the police? They're not going to stop until they have all of our heads."  
  
Nook screeched and buryed his head in his hands, wailing. Nosegay rolled her eyes, "Well, in that case they'll probably take me last. They won't want my videotape coming out before they have a chance to take you two down."  
  
Nook let out another deafening moan. Tortimer glared at her, "Yeah, this precious videotape you keep mentioning. We've yet to see a copy."  
  
She smiled at him, "I bet you'd love to see it, huh? Too bad. You'll see it when the cops do, asshole."  
  
"Look," the mayor said, "Now is not the time for us to turn against each other. We need to present a strong, united front against our common enemy! We have to show them we're not going to take this laying down!"  
  
"Oh, and what do you suggest we do, hmmm?" She said sarcastically, "Sven, our hitman, is dead. I'm a girl, Nook is a pussy and you're three hundred years old. They're going to pick us off one by one and there isn't a damn thing any of us can do about it."  
  
"You seem remarkably casual about it, Nosegay."  
  
She shrugged, "I might just have a few tricks up my sleeve, mayor."  
  
Nook wiped his eyes and stood up, "Well, maybe you two can sit here and wait for them to cut off your heads, but not me. I'm getting the fuck out of here."  
  
He made to leave, but Tortimer tripped him with his cane. Nook stumbled and lay sprawled on the floor, unmoving.  
  
"Nook, you can go to Timbuktu and they'll still find you. Do what you want, just don't expect me to help you out."  
  
"Some help you've been!" Nook spat, getting unsteadily to his feet and glaring down at the mayor, "Some big fat fucking help you were to Mink and Sven, you piece of stinking shit!"  
  
He looked, for a moment, terrified at what he'd said. Then he bolted out of the room.  
  
Nosegay began to laugh and, after a moment, the mayor joined her, "Good riddance to bad rubbish!"  
  
Nosegay grinned, "Yeah. He isn't worth the corn in his shit." 


	12. Chapter Twelve

12:27 p.m.  
  
"Ready?" Copper said.  
  
Booker nodded. They lifted the body off the bed and gently placed it in the open body bag on the bedroom floor. Booker zipped it up while Copper stood and surveyed the bed, the blood-stained pillow and the curious coarse, white hairs littered liberally all over. Definately not human hairs, not Mink's anyway. Mink couldn't been a day over thirty.  
  
"Alright," he sighed, "You take care of that, I'll get started here."  
  
Booker nodded and slid the bag onto the collapsed stretcher. He pulled it to its full height and began wheeling it slowly out of the room.  
  
He passed Pinky on the stairs, and he turned to call up a warning to Copper, but she'd already disappeared into the bedroom. Oh well, he thought, turning his attention back to his descent, he can handle her.  
  
"I came as soon as I heard," Pinky said, "I thought you two could use a little help."  
  
Copper shook his head and said stiffly, "No, we're good. I'm just going to collect some articles here from the scene and when Booker gets back we're going to dust the place. We've got the Calistan CSI on their way, but they've got a triple-homicide they're busy with at the moment. It could be awhile." He didn't meet her eyes, didn't even glance in her direction, as he spoke. She watched, silently, as he methodically placed the pillow in a clear plastic bag marked 'Evidence'.  
  
She gave a very audible sigh and said, "Alright, Copper. What do you want to know?"  
  
"Can this wait? I'm very busy at the moment. Mayor Tortimer wants this finished before his press conference tonight."  
  
"Did you talk to him?"  
  
"He called me. Tom Nook found the body, and he went straight to the mayor."  
  
Pinky sat down on a hard, wooden chair by the door, "Copper, I need to talk to you. Now."  
  
He finished dating the bag and placed it beside the dresser before finally looking up at her, "Make this quick, ok?"  
  
"You want to know how I got here yesterday? I came from the island. I knew I was getting here too early but I needed to find out myself if it were true. If Sven was really dead."  
  
"You heard it on the radio, didn't you?"  
  
"Yes, but I was on Jasmine Island and-"  
  
"Jasmine Island? I've never heard it called that before."  
  
"It was never officially recognized by the state, so various different groups have claimed it as their own over the years and have given it many names. Jasmine Island is just what the villiagers there call it."  
  
"Go on."  
  
"I don't know if you're aware of it, but there is a very dangerous price-gouging ring that's made that island their headquarters."  
  
"I'm vaguely aware of it, yes. We were warned to be cautious of anyone or anything coming from the island. There is a ship that comes every Wednesday that Booker meets out there, just to be sure no funny business is going on. It's just coffee and cheap clothing, though."  
  
"I've been working undercover on the island for a couple of months, and have gotten pretty buddy-buddy with some of the higher-ranking officials within the organization, which is run by an ex-pirate known only as Gulliver, although we suspect that is an alias."  
  
"So what does any of this have to do with Sven's murder?"  
  
"My sources indicate that a rival operation is being run right here in Lemon, and Sven was a part of it. We believe it was someone from the island that murdered Sven and now Mink."  
  
Copper shook his head, "What? I don't think so. I don't know exactly who these sources are but I suspect they're-"  
  
"She's a very reliable source, and she lives right here in town. Apparently someone involved in the operation gave her a videotape in case anything ever happened to her, as a sort of blackmail device. The tape seems to imply that the mayor himself is a part of the organization."  
  
"Bullshit!" Copper exploded, slamming his fist on his thigh, "That's a crock of stinking shit! Listen, I don't know who you think you are, but I've been an officer here for over fifteen years, all of them served under Mayor Tortimer. He is the most honest, straightfoward and moral man I've ever met in my entire life. Your source is either mistaken or a bald-faced liar."  
  
"We have the tape!"  
  
"Then why were no arrests ever made, and why were Booker and I never informed?"  
  
"Because we didn't know if you were in cahoots with Tortimer. No arrests were ever made because the person on the tape never identifies herself and the image and sound are grainy. It'd never hold up. We know that it's the one called Nosegay, though."  
  
"Nosegay, Tortimer, Sven and what, Mink too?"  
  
"Yes, most likely. We've also had our eye on Joan-"  
  
"Joan!" he spat contemptuously, "Are you serious? She's gotta be like a hundred years old. Joan wouldn't hurt a fly."  
  
Pinky pulled a thick packet out of her briefcase and flipped through it for a second before finally pulling out a single photograph. She handed it over to Copper, who studied it, biting his lip intently.  
  
"That's a picture I took of Mayor Tortimer and Gulliver having a private meeting a few weeks ago. I believe he was trying to arrange the return of his granddaughter, who was kidnapped a while back and is being held in an unknown location off the island. The deal must've fallen through, however, because he hasn't been back. I was in another building using a high-powered lense and was forced to try to decipher the movements of their lips."  
  
"This doesn't prove anything. His granddaughter was kidnapped, true, but the general belief is that it was someone involved with the camp."  
  
"A man from the island named Bob Berger worked there as a safety coordinator that summer. Two days after she vanished he quit."  
  
Copper glared stonily down at the photograph, "How do I even know this is Gulliver? We never recieved any headshots or photos."  
  
"Look on his arm, he's got a tattoo of his name."  
  
Copper closed his eyes.  
  
"Copper, I know how you must feel. It is the opinion of my directors that Mayor Tortimer and Gulliver are running competeing organizations, and things have finally started to boil over."  
  
"Where is Nosegay?"  
  
"I don't know. No one's seen her since the day before Sven's death. We don't even know if she's still alive, although I'm sure her video would have been leaked if she wasn't."  
  
Copper looked at her for the first time. His eyes were red, "So what do we do?"  
  
"I'm going to talk to Tom Nook. He's got a wife and kids, and his business, so he knows he's got a lot to lose in this. He's got to be scared, and I'm going to try to break him. If I can get a statement, we can arrest Tortimer and then I'm pretty sure Gulliver will back off from Lemon."  
  
"But who do you think is committing the actual murders? We've gotten no reports of any strange crafts down at the dock, or any mysterious strangers prowling about at nighttime."  
  
Pinky shook her head, "That I don't know. There's so much that we just don't know."  
  
At that moment Booker walked into the room, and they fell silent. Copper gave Pinky another curious look, and then he and Booker resumed their careful combing of the crime scene. 


	13. Chapter Thirteen

1:00 p.m.  
  
Tom Nook bent over his tiny desk, carefully filling out an inventory sheet. He found it helped to immerse himself in his work, and since he'd left Tortimer's he'd already cleaned behind the register, printed and attatched new, harder to read price tags, and had gone through half a bottle of Windex trying in vain to rid his front windows of the lingering grease and grime they seemed to attract, like magnets. Grease so thick that the sun only barely filtered through, and in the winters when the light was scarse he often had to turn on the emergency overheads just to claim some sort of weak visibility.  
  
He signed his name with a flourish on the bottom line and folded the paper neatly in half, placing it in an envelope and throwing it carelessly in his overflowing Out box. With that finished, he clasped his hands together, lowering his head to rest on the desk's scratched surface, and began to sob.  
  
What the fuck had he gotten himself into? He'd known about Joan's funny turnips for years. She would tell him every week that he should think about giving it a shot, make some real money for a change. For years he'd purchased only real turnips, until Mink approached him about two weeks after he'd arrived on the train from Calistan. Nook had set him up at his then tiny house, so he said he wanted to return the favor. With Mink involved, he'd lose a cut of the profits but gain a scapegoat. Mink had a bit of a troubled past, a few run-ins with the law back in Calistan and, before that, on the other coast in a small town called Coral Sky. If they were ever found out, he could always make himself out to be the unwilling victim, time and time again threatened with death and the death of his loved ones if he didn't comply with the human madman's ludicris demands. But things had fallen apart with an alarming speed. Sven and Mink were dead, and, come Sunday, he knew for sure Joan wouldn't turn up.  
  
"Turnip," he said, sighing. He realized there was a very real possibility he wouldn't live to see Sunday.  
  
Behind him, in the doorway, Pinky stood, watching him intently. She watched as he wept silently into his hands, as he shook his head from side to side and mouthed wordless pleas. When he began to violently slam his head on the table she cleared her throat.  
  
She might as well have fired a gun. Nook shrieked and dove under the desk, babbling incoherently and trembling in fear.  
  
"Relax, Nook, it's Pinky. We spoke yesterday?"  
  
He was quiet for a moment, and then he shakily crawled out from under the desk, "O-of course. My apologies, Miss, but you gave me quite a start."  
  
"Who did you think I was?"  
  
He gulped, "Please, I must ask you to leave at once. The shop is closed for the day."  
  
"Mind if I have a little talk with you first? Why don't you sit down?" She herself had carelessly swept the stacks of old bills and letters off the crippled green chair by the doorway and had sat, daintily crossing her legs.  
  
Nook remained standing for a moment, seemingly weighing his options. Pinky did not take her eyes off him, and she nodded when he finally sat back down.  
  
"Mr. Nook, I'm skirt around all the bullshit, pardon my French. I think we both know why I'm here."  
  
He said nothing, but looked quickly away.  
  
"You have a very beautiful wife, Mr. Nook. And I saw those kids of yours earlier, fishing down by the pond. Nice family, and a successful business. You've got a lot to lose here if you don't cooperate."  
  
He remained silent, and she continued, "I'm going to make you a very generous offer, and I'm only going to make it once. I'm offering you total immunity. I've already cleared it with the state. In exchange, you give me a written and taped confession. You tell us everything, and then you're free to go. If you feel your life will be in danger, we can offer you and your family our witness prtection program. The choice is yours." She spoke in short, clipped sentences, sitting back when she'd finished.   
  
Finally, after about five minutes of heavy silence, he said in a low voice, "And what if I refuse?"  
  
"Then I'm going to arrest you. Now, as in right here in this room. And you'll go to jail for a very long time."  
  
"Then I don't really have much of a choice, do I?"  
  
She smiled.  
  
3:16 p.m.  
  
He lifted the mug with both hands and brought it slowly to his lips. His hands were shaking so badly the coffee sloshed about, and he felt a slight singe on the end of his nose.  
  
At the other end of the table, Detective David Hunter was watching him, one hand resting on the PLAY button of the clunky tape recorder. To Nook's right was a large mirror, and behind that mirror Pinky sat watching Rusty Copper weep.  
  
Nook took another sip, his tremors abating a bit. Pinky put her hand on Copper's shoulder and gave him a wane smile, "I know what you must be going through, Copper. When I worked for the State's Deliquent Tax division a few years ago, my immediate supervisor was busted for stealing thousands of bells from the taxpayers. She was the nicest, most professional person I'd ever met, and when I heard she'd been arrested it hit me like a train. It made me doubt myself, and cast a pall over all my years of hard work, so I know where you're coming from, I really do."  
  
He wiped his eyes with his hands, fiercly ashamed at having wept openly, especially in front of her. He met her gaze, "Imagine how you would have felt had she been responsible for two murders, or the kidnapping of her own granddaughter just to make a quick buck. Imagine for a moment she was one of the most respected leaders in the state, with more connections than a phone company."  
  
She rubbed his back, "You're not in this alone, Copper. You have to be strong, you have to be willing to stand up for what's right for Lemon. Those people need you because now more than ever you're the only person they can trust."  
  
"And yet I am here," he said glumly, heaving a great sigh. They were in the bowels of the massive fortress that was the Calistan Police station. After Pinky's little discussion with Nook, she'd called the state and they had rushed a helicopter over. Copper had decided at the last minute to join them, to hear for himself. He'd left Booker in charge.   
  
"God only knows what the mayor is thinking right now," Nook said, setting his mug down, "I'm very afraid for the people back in Lemon. He's bound to be mighty angry and not a bit scared. He's too old and stubborn."  
  
Hunter leaned back and put his hands behind his head, "Tell me again about your little visit to Mink's house this morning. After you got back from your shop, with the chair, what happened?"  
  
"Tortimer was in the living room, going through Mink's desk drawer. He seemed surprised to see me back so soon, and told me he was making sure there was no documents or letters that would get any of us in trouble. I offered the help him comb through the place but he didn't want to. We put the chair, it was a big heavy one I was planning to put on sale this Sunday, we put it off to the side in the living room. And then we went back to the mayor's house."  
  
Outside, they could hear a distant rumbling, and Nook jumped a bit. According to the helicoper pilot, there was a huge storm heading to Lemon that was expected to bring a lot of rain, possibly flooding. Just what we need, Copper had thought, more rain. He turned towards Pinky, who was rooting around in her briefcase. She said, "That must have been her I saw at the Mayor's yesterday. I didn't even know who it was."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Nosegay. Nook's telling the truth."  
  
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"  
  
"Actually yes," Pinky said, a bit too harshly, "Because tonight we're going to arrest the biggest crook Lemon has ever seen."  
  
"He was also the best mayor we've ever had," Copper said.  
  
"That doesn't excuse-"  
  
"I know that!" he snapped, "Look, I'm gonna go get some fresh air, ok?"  
  
"Stay close. We're just waiting for the backup squad car before we head back to Lemon."  
  
He nodded and left the room. She turned her attention back to the interrogation.  
  
"He paid back the debt amazingly quickly," Nook was saying, "which enabled us to expand a few times. I wish I could find out if he's willing it to anyone because I could really make a pretty penny on such a beautiful house."  
  
When Hunter asked him to again describe Nosegay's involvement within the operation, Pinky stood up and stretched. Tortimer's arrest would undoubtedly please Gulliver, but what he failed to realize was the the state wasn't happy halting one illegal organization. Not when her father, Art Fowler, was the attorney-general. He wouldn't be satisfied until every last thieving one of them were behind bars, and Pinky was looking foward to being there for the takedown. She was going back to the Jasmine Island Sunday night.  
  
Behind her, the door to the hall opened and one of the local police stuck his head through, "Miss? The backup squad just arrived. Officer Copper is waiting for you."  
  
She nodded and followed him outside, where the rain was coming down in solid sheets. Copper stood shivering under a ridiculously tiny yellow umbrella. He hurried over to her and said, "We're taking the second car. Get in."  
  
She brushed past him as he tried to hold the umbrella out for her. When they were both in the car, he turned to her and gave her a faint shadow of a smile, "You ready?"  
  
She nodded, and he grasped the wheel, squinting into the torrential downpour, seeing nothing of the other squadcar except its fierce red tail lights, like a beacon in a storm on the briny sea. 


	14. Chapter Fourteen

3:32 p.m.  
  
Paula set her fork down on her empty plate and managed a slight belch. She poured the last of the water into her glass and downed it in one gulp, rolling her head back and moaning theatrically.  
  
Colin scowled, "Paula, don't. C'mon, we've had a great day. Let's not ruin it."  
  
She shook her head, smiling as she pushed herself away from the table, "Don't start on me, please, Colin. Don't ruin everything."  
  
She had a way of turning things around, trying to make him feel guilty. He heaved a sigh as he watched her make her way through the crowded resteraunt, skirting around busboys and little children. When she'd disappeared into the woman's restroom, he reached across the table and snatched her purse. She was always good for a couple bells or so. This time, though, her wallet was empty, which meant she expected him to pay for the meal. He thought of her in there, bent over the toilet with her hair held back in one hand and the other shoved in her mouth, forcing itself down her throat. He shook his head and pocketed a small silver bracelet, returning her purse to her side of the small, chipped table. Outside, the rain was coming down with such force he couldn't see two feet into the parking lot. Thunder roared overhead, and a few of the patrons let out nervous laughs.  
  
"What the hell are you talking about, get your stinking paws off me!"  
  
Colin frowned and looked toward the front of the long, rectangular room, where an elderly sow was standing by the cash register, two nervous-looking police officers on either side of her, talking to her in low voices. She, however, continued shrieking.  
  
"I don't know nothing, get your stinking claws off me, I said-Hey! Hey, this asshole just stole my purse!"  
  
The officer had grabbed for her arm, but had ended up with a handful of her heavy burlap bag. He looked sheepishly at his partner, who was older and obviously more seasoned. He seized her meaty arms and, as she screamed and stuggled against him, managed to slip a pair of dull metal handcuffs onto her wrists.  
  
"Hey!" said someone from behind the counter, "What you doin' to poor old Joan? She never did nothing to nobody."  
  
"She's under arrest for illegal price gouging and fraud. You're going to jail for a long time, hog. Get moving."  
  
They had to practically drag her out of the restaurant, as she was still thrashing about, yelling obscenities. Colin couldn't help but laugh.  
  
By the time Paula returned from the bathroom, the rain had let up a little, and Colin was standing up, putting on his coat and rifling through his pockets for some change he could leave the waitress. She smiled at him as she grabbed her own coat of the back of her chair, "What was all that screaming about? Sounded like someone being murdered out here."  
  
He shrugged as they made their way towards the cash register, "Some old loony being carted away. Boy, the cops must really be bored out of their fucking skulls if they're going after people like that, I tell ya. C'mon, lets get out of here. The rain's letting up and I think we can make it to Lemon by sunset if we hurry." 


	15. Chapter Fifteen

3:37 p.m.  
  
"They got Joan," Tortimer said, "Son of a bitch."  
  
Nosegay banged her head against the bars of the cell, screaming through the dirty dishrags he'd shoved in her mouth. Behind her, Booker was lashed to the wall, shaking his head as if to clear it.   
  
Tortimer bent closer to the radio, which protested his proximity by giving a short burst of static so loud it made his eyes water. He leapt back, and the radio tumbled off the desk onto the concrete floor, exploding on impact into a million tiny pieces, screws and springs like little missles landing everywhere about him. He cursed and swiveled around in the old leather office chair. He glared at Nosegay, still standing with her head against the bars, "Look what you made me do! Are you ready to talk?"  
  
She gave him a menacing look and kicked at the bars.  
  
"That's fine by me. Very noble of you to die so that this friend of yours can live. I must say I didn't expect it from you, Nosequeer."  
  
This more than anything seemed to infuriate her, and she stomped about the cell, snorting like a bull, quivering with rage.  
  
Tortimer leaned back in the chair and smiled, "That's right, honey. Let it all out, exhaust yourself. And when you're ready to talk, we'll talk. But until then," he stood up and made his way to the faded blue duffle bag laying dejectedly on its side by the station's front door, which was barracaded with a desk, some filing cabinets and a few chairs Booker had pushed up against it, Tortimer's small pistol pressed painfully against the back of his head. He wheezed as he bent down, his knees popping, his back cracking audibly, "Until then, why don't you just take a gander at this?"  
  
He whirled around, his cane falling, forgotten, to the floor. He hoisted Mink's head high above his own, grinning triumphantly. Nosegay gasped, her eyes widening, almost choking on the rags stuffed into her mouth. Booker was white-faced, staring at him with what appeared to be unspeakable horror, his eyes wide and accusing. The mayor's smiled widened.  
  
"Yes," he hissed, "I did it. I killed them. Some fucking cop you are, huh, Booker? You couldn't catch a fucking cold." He laughed and arranged the head on the surface of Copper's desk so that it stared at them with its cold dead eyes. He bent back down and came up with Sven's head, which he placed besides Mink's, "I fucking killed them, and unless you tell me who this little friend of yours is, I'm going to kill you too. Three heads. Three heads for my little grandbaby back, that's a fucking bargain if you ask me."  
  
Nosegay closed her eyes and sat on the toilet seat, trembling.  
  
"What's it going to be, baby? I need three heads. It's yours, or it's his. You decide."  
  
Nosegay gave him a pleading look, but he stared her down. Finally, she gave a slight nod and walked dejectedly to the front of the cell. Tortimer crossed the room and reached cautiously into the bars, pulled the rags from Nosegay's mouth. She gasped, sinking to her knees and letting out a low moan, "Water," she said, panting.  
  
"First, tell me. Tell me his name."  
  
"It's...a she. Sable."  
  
Her eyes fluttered and then she collapsed onto the floor.  
  
"Sable," the mayor whispered, his eyes widening, "Of course."  
  
Booker thrashed about against the wall, his screams muffled, his eyes burning with anger. Tortimer gave him a quizzical smile, and then pulled the cell keys from his vest, "Sable, huh, Booker? What say you help me move some of that furniture by the door so I can pay her a visit?" He turned the key in the lock, and the door popped open, wobbling on its rusty hinges. He stepped over Nosegay and made his way to where Booker stood, chest heaving, eyes ablaze. "And if you try any funny business, I'll make sure I make her death more painful than it needs to be. Understand?"  
  
He caught the movement out of the corner of his eye, and as he turned he saw Nosegay's face contorted into a mask of triumph and hatred. She buried the screw in his eye and thrust her arm skyward, kicking his legs out from under him. His eye burst, and blood gushed onto her hand and ran in rivulets down her arm and she brought it down, again and again, the screw she'd used to free her hands tearing into his cracked flesh, embedding itself in his cheek bones so that when she lifted her arm his head rose slightly off the ground, and then slammed back with a sickening thud. She realized she was laughing, but she couldn't stop, or doubted she would even if she had been able. And she was never happier to hear sirens in her life. 


	16. Epilogue

June 21, 2003  
  
7:45 a.m.  
  
Pinky stood on the end of the dock, her hair blowing in the gentle wind. Copper said, "I thought you were going back out tomorrow?"  
  
She shrugged, "I was, but I reckon things are going to be pretty hectic over there today now that we've got Joan in custody. We're making our bust tomorrow, just in case they get any ideas about taking off."  
  
"I wish you would stay. It's not safe."  
  
She grinned, "Don't worry about me, you've got enough to worry about yourself."  
  
He nodded, "Yeah, I guess. But I want you to promise me you'll be careful."  
  
"I will," she said, looking out towards the tiny speck in the distance. It was Cap'N, another agent working udnercover as one of Gulliver's cronies.  
  
"Hey, Pinky?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
He paused. And then he smiled, "Does this ending feel a bit rushed to you?"  
  
She thought for a minute, and then grinned, "Whatever. We've got bigger fish to fry."  
  
They hugged then, stiffly, and he was still there when Cap'N arrived in his tiny craft. He stayed on the dock until she was completely out of sight, and then he sighed. 


	17. Author's Note

Animal Crossing: Lame Over  
  
written by Dance War (qualitycafe@bellsouth.net)  
  
started: July 11, 2003.  
  
finished: July 24, 2003  
  
published by fanfiction.net  
  
Author's Note: I do not own Animal Crossing, it's characters, or any locations used in the writing. Animal Crossing is owned by Nintendo.  
  
I would like to thank Nintendo for the source material. I would also like to thank fanfiction.net and anyone who took the time to read Lame Over, particularly those of you who reviewed it as well. 


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